


Resurgent

by samwysesr



Category: Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwysesr/pseuds/samwysesr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All memory of the past is gone—in fact, when she awakens, even her name has been lost to her. All she knows is what she has been told—the doctor that heads the facility she is in found her on the verge of death after she was attacked. Struggling to fill the blank spots in her mind and to regain the use of her badly broken body, her dreams are filled with half-glimpsed faces of people that she doesn’t remember and the haunting echo of a single name—one she doesn’t recognize.</p>
<p>                                                             Tobias</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

**_EVERYONE ANSWERS TO SOMEONE…_ **

In the wake of the Purity War, the Bureau of Genetic Welfare was formed with one clear mission goal: to find a permanent solution to the problems that had arisen as a result of the genetic manipulations experiment. It was necessary to maintain   _peace_ and  _social order._

That is what the people involved in the project believe with all their hearts; the purification of damaged genes was their creed—after all, it was the entire purpose of their organization.

_Or so they believed._

 

**_AND SOMEONE IS ALWAYS WATCHING…_ **

The United States of America was once a dominant world power, but the Purity War and its fallout had removed them from the race; America was now the lowest of low—no more of a threat than the third world countries they’d often sought to master.

The Government wanted to level the playing field; they had an entirely different goal in mind for the long haul—something far more important than genetics.

Weapons.

World Domination. 

The very serums the Bureau thought they were developing to control their experiments were meant for something greater; they would be used to regain everything the United States had lost. The devastating weapons would be wielded by the very people the Bureau had striven so hard to heal. Not just the genetically ‘perfect’, but  _anyone_  who showed the ability to overcome the elixirs.

_Because once a weapon is used, in time, the enemy will replicate it._

_Immunity… was a must._

They waited, watching for some small sight; trusting that the carefully sown seeds were slowly growing to fruition.  For years they monitored the Bureau, becoming more and more impatient with each experiment that failed. Over seven generations, it slowly became clear that there were some serums even a Divergent could not beat—which left a glaring hole in their carefully laid tactical plans. They were on the verge of cutting their losses and closing the Bureau completely—when the sign they’d been waiting for finally arrived.

Beatrice Prior walked through the death serum… and lived.

Moments later, when her body fell, riddled with bullets, a frantic message went out to their agents—employees planted within the Bureau, all dedicated to their Nation.

_“Greenlight! Greenlight! Get in there Now!”_

**_“Operation Phoenix has begun!”_ **

 


	2. Chapter 2

_I feel a thread tugging me again, but this time I know that it isn’t some sinister force dragging me toward death._

_This time I know it’s my mother’s hand, drawing me into her arms._

_And I go gladly into her embrace._

_Can I be forgiven for all I’ve done to get here?_

_I want to be._

_I can._

_I believe it._

_—Tris: Allegiant_

                 

* * *

 The peace and comfort of my mother’s embrace surrounds me. The quiet, still grace of her presence shelters and strengthens me in death as it always did in life. I shove aside the sadness I feel at the thought of leaving Tobias, allowing myself a moment to revel in having her with me again—so near that I can smell the scent of her hair and see the fine, tiny wrinkles that decorate the corner of her eyes. She strokes my hair, smiling; I wait, expecting some sign of the Paradise that my father believed lay waiting on the other side of death.

But it does not appear.

Instead of harps and angels, I slowly become aware of the sound of beeping again. It is different this time than it was the last time I heard it—now it’s an ongoing, constant hum, unhampered by blips or fluctuations. The sound echoes on and on, never changing, so loud that I want to cover my ears in an attempt to drown it out.  It stops—there is a moment of silence, then it begins again. seconds of silence, then another beep follows—a slow, steady rhythm that draws me in. I can feel it vibrating through me. 

I glance up at my mother, confused; her peaceful, serene smile is fading—she looks so sad that it claws at my chest, reawakening the burning pain that I thought was gone forever. Seeing the bewilderment in my eyes, she answers the question that I haven’t found the courage to ask.

“They’re saving you, Beatrice. I’m sorry… you can’t come with me. Not yet.”

I want to scream at her—at them. She said I was done—and this time, I’m finally ready to go—tired of the fighting and bloodshed. Tired of the uncertainty. My soul longs for the peace and comfort that I always felt in my Abnegation home. I shake my head, denying her words—but it’s too late. She’s pulling away.

“Goodbye,” she whispers. “Don’t worry… we’ll see each other again. Remember how much I love you… how proud I am of the woman you’ve become.”

Hot tears fill my eyes, blurring my vision; when I blink them away, my mother is gone. I am alone with only the pain that eats at me—it is my sole companion.

The sound changes again. I know now what it is that I’ve been hearing. My heart beat—gone at first, then slowly regaining a steady beat.  The realization propels me back into the present—I open my eyes, staring up at unfamiliar faces as they frantically try to rip me away from death's grasp.

I gasp—it is a shaky, weak sound amidst the chaos of the room I’m in. Pain steals away all my questions—all but the most important thing. I open my mouth, but before I can speak, a man is there—staring down at me with dark, dark eyes as he murmurs soft words meant to comfort me. I feel the prick of a needle in my neck—the pain is minor compared to the agony the rest of my body is experiencing. Slowly, darkness eats away at the bright overhead lights, stealing away my thoughts as it pulls me under. I fight against it, managing to whisper out one thing. A name— _his name_.

The darkness claims me.

Everything I am… everything I ever was… is   _gone._


	3. Chapter 3

The pain wakes me—it always does. It is constant, never ceasing. The injections they administer ease back the worst of it, dulling the razor sharp agony—but nothing can alleviate the deep, throbbing ache that seems to reside in my bones. Even the smallest of movements makes it shoot through me like liquid fire.

As always, I awaken confused; the muddled, disoriented feeling is like the pain—never ending. Those are the two things I know for certain. My eyes dart around the room, looking for something familiar as  my  mind struggles to grasp the concept of self. Who am I? Where am I? Those are the thoughts that dominate my brain.

I don’t know the answers.

You would think I would get used to the uncertainty—but I don’t. It is there every time I open my eyes. For a few brief  moments, panic consumes me; I can feel a vast empty space that’s  supposed to be filled. My mind is like a puzzle, but the pieces have been scattered and lost—and I don’t know how to find them.

A nurse comes in, bustling around the room; she attaches a device to my finger. I stare at it, disturbed by its presence; she frowns, gently batting my hand away when I try to remove it—telling me I have to calm down so she can get an accurate reading of my pulse. It is impossible—how can I be calm when there’s so much missing?

She strokes my hair to soothe me—asking if I remember her name.

The words are familiar; she’s asked this before. I frown, biting at my lip as I struggle to swim through the murky haze that coats every thought inside my head—it makes everything fuzzy and gray, slippery and hard to grasp. “Ruth? No—Rebecca?”

“Yes!” She smiles. “And what’s this?”

My eyes follow her hands as they move to straighten the covers on my bed. “Blanket.”

She moves around the room, touching different things; I stare at each one, slowly grasping for the name—searching through the foggy recesses of my mind. I get every object right—except the very last one; she touches my shoulder, smiling, and I freeze.

“And who are you?”

I search for a name, but nothing comes—the fog rolls in thicker, obscuring everything from view. “I… don’t know.”

Her smile doesn’t fade—in fact, it seems to grow stronger. “That’s all right—it will come to you eventually.”

There is a question lurking—one I’ve asked before. I know this—somehow… I sense it. I can see myself asking time and time again, but it always . “What’s my name? Why can’t I remember?”

“We don’t know—you were attacked, dear. Doctor Hargrove found you on the street.” It is the same answer she always gives—this time though, she pats my hand and smiles. “You’re doing much, much better. Don’t worry… it will all come back to you soon.”

I sigh, turning my head to watch her as she moves to scribble on the chart that hangs on a hook by the door; I’m searching my memory for some tiny shred—trying to remember the events she described… but there’s nothing inside for me to find. It has vanished, without a trace.

_Who am I?_

The door opens; Rebecca turns her head, smiling and murmuring in a hushed voice to the who stands there. I can hear bits and pieces of their whispered conversation, but the words themselves escape my understanding; they are quickly lost in the dark empty recess in my head.

“Lot 45 seems to be a success. She’s retained the basics, but nothing else. I don’t think you’ll need to use ECT this time.”

“That’s excellent news, but we can’t get ahead of ourselves. Remember what happened last time.” He brushes past her, approaching my bed; my eyes flick down to the tray in his hands, then up to his face. “Good morning! Rebecca tells me we’ve had some progress today. How are you feeling?”

I stare at him, trying to grasp the answer. “Fuzzy. It’s hard to think.”

“That’s expected… tell me, do you know who I am?”

I shake my head; he looks familiar, but I can’t place him.

“I’m your doctor. My name is Stephen Hargrove.” He slides the tray across my lap, adjusting the bed. I groan; as it moves into an upright position, the pain reawakens, dancing through every part of me. “Shhh… I know it hurts. After you eat, we’ll give you something for the pain, all right? Now I want you to eat every bit of your breakfast.”

My gaze shifts to the tray as he settles himself down in the chair beside my bed. The food is plain and tasteless, which comforts me. It is somehow familiar, chasing away some of the anxiety that rides me. When I finish and shove aside the tray, he smiles, seeming pleased that I’ve followed his orders.

“Is there something else you’d like? I can get you whatever you need… I want you to be happy here.”

A face swims up from the black fog of my memories, accompanied by a name. I speak without thought, answering his question. “Tobias. I want Tobias here.”

His smile tightens, then completely fades; he turns to look at Rebecca, slowly shaking his head. “You see? We can’t allow our hopes to get the better of us. Switch to Lot 46—”

“It could just be a residual memory—it might fade,” she protests.

“No. It’s not.” His eyes return to me; they are full of anger that I don’t understand. “We’ll discuss this further later—after you’ve had your treatment.”

Rebecca’s expression is troubled as they wheel me out of the room. Her hand brushes against mine, giving it a brief, furtive squeeze. “Be brave, dear. It will all be over soon.”

I don’t know what she means, but her words affect me deeply. I know them— I’ve heard them before.

From _him._

**Author's Note:**

> The end of Allegiant left me so devastated that... I had to fix it. This will be an ongoing story, though updates will be slow. Hope you enjoy.


End file.
